


Talking to Flowers

by tomarkexists



Category: Blink-182
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomarkexists/pseuds/tomarkexists
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I didn’t expect there was a much bigger meaning to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking to Flowers

I didn’t know how to explain it, but I felt the need to get out of the house today.

Maybe because the confinement of the walls were getting to me, or my bones were too stiff, or I needed fresh air instead of the staleness of my room.

I didn’t expect there was a much bigger meaning to this.

I yelled something to my mother, picked up my smokes and a lighter and hastily put on my shoes. When I swung the door open, the bright sun immediately streamed to my eyes, causing a pathetic wince as I tried to shield from the overbearing vivid light. It took me a few moments to adjust to the sudden change of lighting, and I cursed at myself for being so weak.

I began walking down the pathway, taking in the quiet neighborhood. Nothing interesting happens in this suburb we just moved in. I lit up a cigarette, and began to lazily blow out puffs of smoke through my mouth.

I didn’t know where I was heading, or what my destination was. There was just this inkling in my mind to just keep walking. I couldn’t explain to myself on why I decided to take a left turn here, or a right there. When it felt like I have been walking for fifteen minutes, it was the right time to turn back and head home. I was starting to get thirsty from the heat and the second cigarette.

That’s when I noticed my surroundings.

This street, why does this street looked familiar? Why am I so pulled by ... this unknown force? Why am I walking towards this unknown place? Why do I feel like I’m trying to find something here?

Then, I saw it.

The sharp bend on that street I saw while walking the dog with Anne.

Oh.

It’s where I saw him.

But ... what are those things?

Why are there bouquets of flowers on the pavement where I last saw him?

Why are there candles everywhere?

Why is there a picture of him in black and white?

Why are there such words as ‘we miss you’ or ‘you were taken too young from us’?

Why?

_Oh, is that boy._

_Finally._

_He looked like as if he is in a daze as he walked towards me._

_Wait, not towards me, but towards this small dedication to the sad excuse known as my life._

_He went down on his knees as he read the notes that people had left._

_My eyes followed his eyes, still breathless as to how perfect the shade of his irises are._

_I felt my chest tightening as his eyes caught some rays of sunlight, glistening and showing every different flicker._

_In the last second of my life, those were the last thing I saw._

_What is your name?_

_Tell me, and I’ll be free._

I read everything, but nothing made sense?

Why?

There were sounds of footsteps coming towards me.

As I looked up, a wary woman in her forties gave me a questioning look.

“Hmm, sorry miss, but what happened to him?" I pointed at his picture.

“Oh, to poor little Thomas?" her expression softened up as her tone sounded heavy. “He was hit by a car while he was skating round this curb. A drunk driver in the middle of the day, can you believe it? It was a hit and run too.”

Her words felt like knives, plunging into my body.

Why?

“Poor Connie. Her little baby boy died, I wonder if she can move on. He was only 16, you know?"

Now, the knives are twisting itself in my body, causing the wounds to open up more.

I looked back at his picture and knew it was too late for me.

“Take care," the woman said.

“Th-thanks."

I swallowed the huge lump in my throat as I stared at the picture of him, so young and innocent.

His smile in the picture was happy, beautiful, perfect in fact.

I wanted to be the one who made him smile.

But its far too late for that.

What was the last thing he thought about before he died?

Somehow, that question made me want to cry.

_As Mrs. Lolane explained my death to him, I was transported to the day._

_It was only a week ago, but it felt like it had been a millennium since I departed this plane._

_It was a day after I saw him. I was skating home and wasn’t really paying attention to the road. In my head, it was just that beautiful stranger I saw yesterday walking his dog. His eyes refused to leave me alone. I wondered how his eyes look like when he’s happy, or sad, or angry, or when he's laughing._

_I wondered how his eyes look like if I’m touching him at his sensitive spots._

_I wondered how his eyes look like if I told him that I care about him._

_I wondered how his eyes –_

_Everything was spinning uncontrollably. I couldn't control my body as I heard a disgusting smashing noise in my ears._

_What is his name?_

_What is your name?_

This boy, I don’t even know who he is, but it felt like I just lost someone important.

It was too late now for introductions, but I felt like I owe it to him.

“Umm, hi. This is silly talking to a bunch of flowers, but I really feel like I need to say this," I mumbled, not sure why I'm actually even doing this. It’s not like he can hear me.

“My name is Mark ... Mark Hoppus. I'm 19. I go to a college near here. I don’t know if you can remember, but we met before. Uh ... briefly though. I was walking with my sister and our dog and I saw you doing a trick on this curb. I thought to myself that you seemed cool, and I wanted to say hi but my sister pulled me away. You saw me ... and smiled at me and I smiled back. So yeah ... that’s how we met."

Why?

“It’s weird, but I felt like we could be friends you know? We could have done some rad things together ..."

Why?

"Anyway, I should go. Talking to flowers will make people think I’m crazy. So ... take care, Tom. I hope you're in a better place now."

Why?

_If I could cry, I think there will be a huge puddle of tears pooling on the concrete right now._

_So, I finally know your name._

_Mark._

_So beautiful, just like everything else._

_I can see your soul Mark._

_It’s so pure and genuine._

_Anybody will be lucky to call you as their friend._

_I can see you, but I cannot touch you._

_I tried to grab his shoulder, preventing him from leaving me, but my hands went through him._

_When he picked himself up and turned around, I desparately throw myself at him, hugging him as tight as I could._

_For a second, I thought I could feel another person in my arms._

_But just like last week, he was out of my grasp again._

A sudden shiver went down my spine, causing me to jump.

What was that?

I looked behind me, feeling completely devastated. 

Why do I feel the sudden urge to cry?

There’s no point crying over a stranger with a beautiful smile.

I picked myself up, and walked back home, hoping to forget about Tom already.

But as soon as I learned his name, he never did escape from my thoughts.

_I watched him leave me and wondered if I ever see him again._

_Well, not in this lifetime anyway._

_I smiled as he disappeared from my view, a bittersweet taste spreading through my tongue._

_Why do I feel this way when the only thing I wanted from this world was to know his name?_

_And now that I know it, why do I feel so unsatisfied?_

_I laughed to myself, no humor in the air._

_Out of all the things that held me back from moving on, it has to be from that guy._

_This guy that somehow managed to pick my interest, smokes way too much till he stinks, and tear up when he stumbled upon a memorial of someone he didn’t even know._

_How lame._

_The laughing did not stop as I felt myself became lighter; everything was starting to become bright and blurry._

_I’ll see you later, Mark Hoppus._

_Nothing is permanent in this world._

_I will be waiting for you._

**Author's Note:**

> EXTRA:
> 
> “Hey, hey, Mark Hoppus!”  
> “Wh .. wh-what ...”  
> “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for 50 years man!”  
> “Do ... do I know you from somewhere?”  
> “My name is Tom DeLonge! Nice to see you again!”  
> “Wait ... are you that boy from that car accident?!”  
> “That’s me!”  
> “How do you know my name?”  
> “We met before, remember? Twice!”  
> “Twice?”  
> “I was there when you told your name to me ... or well, to the flowers.”  
> “Oh , I see. Wait ... where am I?”  
> “Well, to put it simply, paradise.”  
> “Paradise?”  
> “Yup! So ... should we get reacquainted? I can show you around.”  
> “Hmm ... that will be okay, I guess.”  
> “Great! There’s so many things I want to tell you. I’ve been watching you from up here all your life, you know? Wondering when you will come back and see me again.”  
> “You watched me?”  
> “Of course. I love you, that’s why ...”


End file.
